Chance Encounters
by veniceit
Summary: THIS STORY IS A JOINT EFFORT: The wonderful NIAGARAWEASEL is the Beta Reader and plays a major part in the creation of this story. It's a series of one-shot accounts of encounters that Chance has with a mystery woman. Will they ever learn each other's true identity? Each chapter stands alone unless otherwise stated. (if you have a prompt for a "Chance Encounter", let us know.)


**_Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement_.**

**Thank you Niagaraweasel for coming up with the story name...the perfect play on words!**

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**Chance Encounters**

Chapter One

"Any sign of the assassin?" Winston's pondering tone filled Chance's earpiece, while his eyes carefully scanned the various screens exposing every corner of the historic English castle as he mentally prepared himself for another evening performing his duties from the surveillance van.

"Um, it's gonna be a little difficult to tell." Chance's observant eyes scanned the extravagant ballroom. "With everyone wearing masks, it could be pretty much anyone." He took a moment to adjust the mask that went with his musketeer costume with a growing displeasure.

These people sure knew how to throw a party; no detail was overlooked, no expense spared, only the best of everything. And why shouldn't they…they were after all pretty much royalty and when your residence is an ancient castle you can throw one hell of a party.

The ballroom was gigantic but still crowded. Everyone who was anyone – or at least thought so – was there. The air was buzzing with laughter and chatter blending with the music that was blaring out through the ballroom – a peculiar mixture of a medieval sound with a touch of modern youth appeal. The result evoked surprisingly stirring, almost erotic emotions. The large mosaic dance floor was filled with costumed party goers of varying ages dancing a traditional medieval dance that was growing seductive as the music continued.

Chance watched the dancers for a few moments to memorize the steps, filing them away in his memory. One never knew if they might come in handy later. No skill was ever unimportant in his line of work, past or present.

Slowly he strolled around the crowed room, taking in everything and everybody, with extra attention on the staff. "This is a teenage aristocrat's coming out party, right?" Chance fingered his slightly scraggly, three-day old, blond goatee. "Why does it have to be a _masquerade_ party? Guess we didn't make a good enough argument to the parents that this only contributes to the already dangerous situation…" Chance blew out a slow, heavy sigh, well aware of the disadvantage a party like this caused.

"Client is eighteen, dude, spoiled and rich. Mommy and Daddy don't say no to anything. And growing up she was obsessed with the movie 'Barbie and the Three Musketeers'", Guerrero reminded them, as he sat behind Winston in the van, feet up on Winston's armrest and, as usual, shoveling some take out into his mouth. "Ever seen it? I'm a big fan of it myself," he added, slurping a noodle into his mouth.

Winston swiveled his chair towards Guerrero, knocking his feet to the floor of the van with a thump, but addressed Chance. "I'm all for it – it will cut back on my paperwork and make it easier for me to keep your identity a secret." His eyes shot imaginary darts at Guerrero.

But for the moment their client was safe, despite the less than ideal situation. She had only moments ago made her entrance down the grand staircase that led down from the castle's living quarters. Chance was keenly aware of every move she made, even when his eyes weren't directly on her. "_Parade her around the room, see who tries to make a move, best way to expose the killer_", they had told the parents, assuring them it was their best shot at elminating the threat.

Of course that was before the parents insisted that it was going to be a masquerade party.

"Yeah, well I feel a little ridiculous and more than a little constricted in this costume…," almost as an afterthought Chance looked down at himself, "but I kind of like the sword." He leaned against the bar as he continued to sweep the room, moving his eyes from person to person until they stopped and settled on _her_. Chance's eyebrows rose above his mask, as he watched her walk alone through the overstated entrance and hand her invitation to the castle servant assigned to greet the guests. After a friendly exchange and a hand gesture signaling her to enter, she started down the stairs. About half way down she paused to inspect the lively ballroom scene.

In a room full of people in various forms of eye catching costumes she still managed to stand out. Chance unconsciously licked his lips, glanced away to check on their client, than cut his eyes back to the enthralling mystery woman.

He watched as she slowly continued her decent. Her sword seductively brushed a long, shapely thigh that peaked teasingly out of her skirt as it swayed with each step.

Her costume and appearance was enough for Chance to rethink his objection to the masquerade theme. Her boots were dangerously high, hugging her calves all the way up over her knees, then folding over. The ruffled skirt stopped just above the top of the boots. The black bodice showcased her tiny waist and pushed her bust up to where it threatened to spill over the square cut low neckline. Her sleeves were long and fitted until they reached her elbow and flared. Around her long, inviting neck was a black choker with a medallion of some sort.

As stunning as her costume was, it was nothing compared to the obvious beauty hidden behind the sparkling purple mask.

A long, thick cloud of golden chestnut locks framed her face and tumbled down her neck and shoulders, a few stray strands clinging to her cleavage. As she moved closer to Chance, her eyes caught his. Even across the distance between them her dark brown eyes seemed to burn holes in him. Chance suppressed a shudder; it felt like she looked through him straight into his soul.

_Let's get this party started_, Tallyn told herself with an unsure tilt to her head. As she walked down the long stone staircase, her eyes took in the magnificent room. It was beyond huge. Plucked right out of any medieval movies she had ever seen. The ceiling was high and domed, with massive crystal chandeliers suspended from it at intervals. The entrance floor, which she had just come from, circled the entire ballroom with a waist high carved stone railing. And Tallyn counted two more staircases leading to halls and rooms in other parts of the castle.

Then her eyes settled on _him_. His costume could have come straight out of a Three Musketeers movie, complete with flowing cloak and feathered hat. Even with his mask she could see that his eyes were a heart-stopping blue that seemed to cut straight through her.

With her destination in mind she strutted towards the mystery man. Her confidence had an entrancing effect on Chance. Their eyes remained focused on each other.

As she approached the bar and Chance, she broke eye contact, just as a scantily clad blond girl positioned herself between them. A little tipsy, she leaned into Chance, pulling his eyes away from Tallyn to hers. "Can I buy you a drink?" she beamed up at Chance. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her and keep her from falling.

Her swaying body and exaggerated gestures amused Chance; he smiled down at her. "It's an open bar, so…", he pursed his lips, "…sure."

Tallyn's eyes flashed with sarcasm at the girl's forwardness. She found herself surprised by her unwarranted annoyance with the girl; she had no claim on the man… yet. She caught the bartender's eye and he immediately moved over to her to take her drink order. Chance wasn't surprised the bartender had forgotten to take their order once he'd glanced toward the woman. He'd bet it was a common occurrence for her. She ordered a vodka martini with a splash of lemon.

"He'll have a…" the unsteady girl blinked up at Chance once the bartender returned to them.

"Scotch," Chance told the bartender.

"My name is Lindsay", the girl gushed, brushing her bosom against his arm. "What's yours? You have beautiful eyes…." She slurped on the straw of her frozen margarita.

Chance grinned at her distracted forwardness. "It's Matthew", he said, using his cover name. "Nice to meet you, Lindsay."

Over the next several minutes, Lindsay didn't stop talking. Chance, playing the consummate gentleman, listened politely, nodding like she made sense, but kept his other senses aware of everything else going on in the room. He also never stopped being aware of the striking female musketeer that had caught his eye.

_Not again,_ Winston thought, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Dear god, how many times had he seen this happen; the female client falling for Chance, the damsel in distress unable to keep her knight and shining hero at arm's length. Hell, he'd even seen the villains become enchanted by Chance's great looks and seemingly irresistible charm. And as for the situation he was just witnessing on the screen, yes, he'd seen this before too… just some random girl setting her eyes on Chance…he saw how Chance glanced past Lindsay over to _her_, the beauty that had just walked in, and how she responded to his glance with a questioning "_really_?" in respect to the drunken girl hitting on him. And how he returned the look with a helpless look of his own, followed by the charming slight shrug Winston knew only too well. Oh yeah, the arm's length rule was flying out the window again.

"Arm's length, keep her at arm's length…" Winston told Chance through gritted teeth, shaking his head. "I can see the way you're looking at her."

"It's under control…" Chance reassured Winston, just as a tall slender man dressed more like a flashy prince than a musketeer hero arrogantly squeezed between Lindsay and the mystery woman, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bar. He looked her up and down, an approving smirk strewn across his mouth.

A pure Casanova, thought Tallyn. She rolled her eyes and Chance smiled to himself as he went back to watching for anyone that might be their assassin. Winston relaxed his shoulders, hoping that was the end of that.

While Chance focused back on the room, politely answering any of Lindsay's questions as vaguely as possible, Tallyn was displaying her own frustration with eyes narrowed at the obviously narcissistic man smiling stupidly at her. "Hey, little musketeer, come here often?" His accent was local and his smile was big, with teeth that were a little too white.

_Really? That's his line?_ Both Chance and Tallyn rolled their eyes at the same time.

"My name is Duncan," the man said, snapping his fingers at the bar tender drying some glassware and pointed to Tallyn's empty glass." Duncan the Third." He grabbed his drink and took a big swig. "I bet your name is as beautiful as you are."

"It's Jennifer," Tallyn lied with a touch of disdain in her voice, but she forced a smile.

Chance eyed her thoughtfully, wondering if that was her real name. He'd be willing to bet good money that it wasn't.

For the next several minutes, neither Chance nor Tallyn said much of anything, but politely listened to each of their companions. While Tallyn outwardly smiled, her number one thought at the moment was how to dispose of this nuisance of a man without making a scene.

Suddenly, without any notice, she felt a strong but gentle hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling him away from the bar. "Excuse us," Chance told Lindsay sweetly, then leaned down and whispered something in her ear, pulled back and nodded towards Duncan. At first Lindsay looked dumbfounded. Chance gave her a wink of encouragement, which made her turn to Duncan smiling from ear to ear. Immediately forgetting about Chance, her attention was now focused completely on an obviously confused Duncan. Smiling triumphantly, Chance pulled Tallyn away.

She didn't resist or try to pull away from Chance's grip, but she didn't exactly follow willingly either as he led her to the dance floor.

"I could have handled that myself. I didn't need your help." There was a slight grumble to her voice, but it was laced with a teasing tone. Chance stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at her. The contrast between their eyes, the deep chocolate brown and the brilliant blue, sparked as they locked.

"Oh, I wasn't rescuing you," he grinned down at her with a mischievous smirk, displaying boyish charm. "I was rescuing myself."

Attractive, strong, hot and… witty, Tallyn mused. She gave him a teasing sidelong glance, despite this silly teenager's idea of a party and the dumb costume she had to wear, things were looking up.

He swirled her around until she landed in his arms, his hand firmly placed on the small of her back, holding her close. In a breath they were both in step with the rest of the lined up dancers, each in their respective rows. Their moves were in perfect unison with the others, they performed the dance like they had trained days for it.

Following the group, they parted, stepped back, bowed, circled the person beside them and met in the middle where Chance took Tallyn's hand and held it up as she twirled under it. Then he pulled her close to his body as they made a few slow circles together.

Back in Chance's arms Tallyn felt a surge of warmth, then her senses spiked as he moved his lips close to her ear. "So," he whispered into her hair, his tone dropped and it became husky, "what's your _real_ name?" He pulled back and looked into her eyes, searching for the truth.

A little startled, she met his eyes. They had darkened and were probing, intense. Tallyn hastily averted her gaze. _Damn, his eyes are like truth serum_, she thought.

The dance steps separated them again, had them switch partners for another series of twirls, then they were back to standing across from each other. Chance bowed, Tallyn curtsied. They held hands and stepped towards each other's side, right hip to left, then changed sides.

Completely in synch with the other dancers, they were now shoulder to shoulder, maintaining contact as they circled, their heads turned to each other.

"What makes you think it's not Jennifer?" she whispered over her shoulder as they continued to circle, now back to back.

Chance turned to face her, stood still while Tallyn walked around him, eyeing him like he was her prey, completely in character with the song. He took her hand and held it high as she twirled in place, then he pulled her toward him and she flew into his arms, his strong hand holding her waist as she spun in a circle. She stopped with her back to him, his hands still holding her waist. He lifted her off the ground a few feet, then gently set her back down. She turned and he pulled her into a close waltz position, their bodies touching, their lips separated only by a hairbreadth. Time froze. Tallyn wondered if he could feel her heart pounding. He moved her slowly and surely across the dance floor. It was so smooth Tallyn felt as if her feet barely touched the ground.

Tallyn swallowed hard as she studied his chiseled face. Even with the mask and goatee his handsome features shone through. His goatee wasn't quite full yet, she wondered if he had grown it only to match the costume. She tried to picture him without it or the mask, it was difficult. But his eyes were distinctive, unforgettable.

Chance pulled away and they turned back to back again; arms folded as they stepped to the side of each other and circled.

"You don't look like a Jennifer," Chance explained. Tallyn couldn't see his face, but from his tone she could tell that he was smiling that smile she first noticed, the smile she was positive got him just about everything he wanted.

The music was increasing in intensity and so were their moves. It was hot and erotic, overflowing with passion and their bodies moved together as if they had practiced dancing together for years. It was like their bodies talked to each other, anticipating each intimate move. _Where did she learn to move like this?_ Chance wondered as his hand ran up her thigh to her hip.

The music stopped suddenly and right on cue Chance stopped with it, holding Tallyn in a provocative dip, his body leaning over her, their attention focused on each other. Just one of Chance's many talents as he was still watching the room for anything suspicious, besides, Winston and Guerrero had eyes everywhere too, it's not like he was putting the client in danger by having a short dance. They breathed heavily, staring into each other's eyes.

Becoming aware of the many eyes focused on them, Chance allowed his eyes to leave her face. "I think we have an audience." He pulled Tallyn to her feet as the crowd circled around them and began to clap. Chance and Tallyn had such an immediate chemistry that the entire dance floor was drawn to watch them together.

They smiled bashfully at their spectators. Tallyn performed a small curtsey to the crowd. Chance's eyes were drawn away as something caught his attention. He turned his back on Tallyn and quietly informed Winston and Guerrero. "She's on the move." Their client was storming from the ballroom up one of the grand staircases, face buried in her hands, obviously crying.

"Chance, you can't let her out of your sight," Winston all but shouted nervously into Chance's ear.

Chance pressed his earpiece and grimaced at Winston's statement of the obvious. Damn teenagers!

Fun was over, he needed a way to quickly dismiss himself from Tallyn. He glanced at her with disappointed eyes. This woman intrigued him and a part of him wanted to continue the evening to see where it would go. He felt a strong longing to find out more about her. He had never gotten her real name, but then again, neither had she gotten his. He also knew the moment he followed their client he'd never see her again.

He turned to her, but before he could say anything she jumped in. "Sorry to cut this short, my masked mystery man, but it's almost midnight and I don't want my ride to turn back into a pumpkin." She ran her hand down his face almost with regret, and before he could say anything she turned away and vanished like Cinderella.

"Wrong fairy tale," Chance mumbled to himself puzzled, but there was no time to analyze her suddenly curious behaviour. He quickly took off in the opposite direction.

He bolted up the stairs after their client. The balcony led to a labyrinth of rooms and hallways to choose from. She could have gone through any of them.

"Chance, someone's following her, hurry!" Winston's voice strained to stay calm.

"Which way?"

"Right, run to the right, the sixth door on your left, it leads to another staircase."

Chance burned down the hall towards the sixth door and up the next staircase. It led to an outdoor balcony, high up above the castle grounds.

Chance squinted hard as he frantically tried to make out the location of their client. The darkness immediately impaired his vision. The scattered cloud cover smothered any moonlight that was trying to peak through and the lamps that lined the balcony burned low, casting only soft shadows.

He could see movement in the distance, shadows, their client and the assassin.

The assassin had her by the neck and was dragging her away to a set of stairs leading down to a manicured garden and a bridge over the moat. Obviously the assassin's planned escape route.

Chance looked around; above his head he spotted another balcony running parallel to the one he was standing on. He jumped up and grabbed the cement edge, reached for the banister bars, pulled himself up and raced toward them undetected.

Within moments he was directly above them, flying through the air, the assassin lined up as his intended target.

His body made impact with his target, crashing them to the ground with a thump. Screaming and crying, their client ran off and disappeared through another door.

Chance recovered quickly from the jolt; he had the assassin pinned beneath him and was getting ready for a fight when he stopped dead in his tracks. "You?" His heart jumped into his throat.

"Me? You?" His mystery woman said an accusing tone and a raised eyebrow.

Chance was so shocked that in a rare moment of professional disorientation he let his guard down. In a flash his body was flung to the side and she was on her feet again.

Chance pulled himself to his feet as well, glancing around as if looking for answers, as if he was doubting his own eyes. How could this be, how could she be…? But she didn't seem intent on killing him on the spot, so he put his hands on his hips, cocked his head. Slowly he allowed his eyes to inspect her from top to bottom. She stood in a ready defence stance, her sword drawn and wavering slightly in front of her, her breathing heavy.

Chance's face turned from confusion to curiosity as he gestured towards her sword and both brows arched in question above his mask, "I'm gonna assume that's real?" He couldn't keep a grin from surfacing.

She returned the smile and provocatively raised one eyebrow. "I assume yours is real, too?" With ravenous eyes she watched Chance draw his own sword like a stealth wild cat ready to prance at him. "So what are you, her bodyguard?" They cautiously circled each other, swords raised. "Have to say, I'm not surprised," she said, eyeing him up and down. "I probably should have known," she mumbled as an afterthought, he was just too good.

"Not exactly." Chance found himself strangely exhilarated to find a female version of his old self… a _hot_ female version… Thinking of his previous life, hundreds of questions flashed in his mind regarding her and how she became what she was. She was obviously just as expertly trained as he was; it explained her being able to master their dance so quickly. Attention to detail and always knowing your surroundings was an absolute must in their line of work, regardless of what side you were playing. In many ways, they were equals, just on opposite sides, like two faces of the same coin.

"I can't let you have her and I can't let you get away," Chance said in a matter-of-fact tone. "We can go somewhere and talk about this." He raised his eyebrows, coaxing her. Rarely did women resist this look of his, but somehow, even though he had known this woman only for a short time, he knew he was wasting his time. "I need to know who sent you!" They continued to circle.

"I can't let you take me," she replied, fighting to resist his charm and control her voice. "There is too much at stake. It's complicated, you wouldn't understand…"

_You might be surprised_. Chance felt sadness tighten his chest. He'd been there, hell, he'd been _her_ once, he knew exactly the turmoil and confusion that made this line of work so 'complicated', and he knew what she was planning. He knew, because it was what he'd do; her plan was to get to the stairs and get away… which was why he stopped, positioning himself to block them.

Her only choice now was to go through him. She lunged forward; their swords clashed loudly, the sound echoing up through the enduring castle walls. Their movements were quick and precise as their swords met above, left, right… and once again their movements were completely in synch.

She spun around, trying to reposition herself in the direction she wanted to go. Chance followed her movement all the way as their swords cut through the damp, cool, English air. For a second, she lost her footing and stumbled slightly off balance, allowing Chance a small opening.

His sword swooped down. Tallyn twisted away, but Chance's blade got tangled up in the ruffled hem of her skirt, resulting in her being pulled into Chance. Pressed together chest to chest, they were both breathing heavily, as they tried to stare each other down. Chance could feel her breast pressing against his chest, soft and inviting, _focus_, he willed himself.

Tallyn was the first to break the stare. She looked town at the sword tangled up in her skirt, then turned her eyes back up to his now mischievous eyes. Her own eyes widened at the realization of what he was about to do. _Don't you dare…_

With a sudden movement Chance yanked his sword away, ripping off a large piece of her skirt, revealing the long, lean legs that Chance had only caught a teasing glimpse of earlier.

Tallyn stopped in her tracks. Chance paused as well. She studied Chance, smiling inwardly as he dragged his eyes slowly up her now practically bare legs. She had to admit she liked that look in his eyes, it warmed her deep in her stomach.

Tallyn moved her sword toward Chance as he responded defensively. "I like what you're wearing under your skirt." Chance risked a quick glance at the black garter belt sitting high up on her thigh, as they circled around, watching each other carefully. "But I would have preferred to see it under different circumstances," his voice was teasing, but yet his eye looked serious and there was no question, the sexual tension between them stretched taut like a snake-skin over a drum.

Tallyn lunged toward him, swinging her sword like a mad woman, and they circled around each other to a much different beat than their dance in the ballroom. Yet, somehow it was just as arousing.

It wasn't like Chance wasn't trying, he was, but there was a slight unconscious hesitation, she was a woman after all, and a woman he had moments ago been extremely attracted to, hand wanted to get to know better. _Had?_ He was _still_ attracted to her and now even more intrigued.

This would be the only explanation why someone accomplished at pretty much every armed and unarmed fighting technique known to man could have a near miss. Or maybe he was just the slightest bit distracted by her ripped skirt? Or more precisely by what the ripped skirt revealed. Whatever the reason, when her sword swooped down, Chance's reaction was ever so slightly off and the tip of her blade sliced through his shirt, grazing his skin and leaving a thin red line diagonally across his chest. Chance jumped back in surprise.

Tallyn studied her handiwork as she swung her blade in a circular motion. Not bad. And the hard chest now revealed wasn't bad either; pretty much how she had imagined it, chiseled, firm, muscular…she felt her heart slam against the back of her rib cage, _focus._

For a moment, Chance's hand went to the gaping rip in his shirt.

"Ouch. That was a new shirt. Now I can't return it."

Well, from the look in her eyes, at least now they were both distracted.

Ignoring the slight sting of the shallow cut, Chance gave her a devilish grin and pounced like an attacking mountain lion. Tallyn anticipated his movement and met it, the swords clashing again, this time locking against each other. They were close, very close. Chance could feel her breath on his face, a sweet mixture of vodka and strawberry lip-gloss. His strength and her determination kept them locked in this heated position. Their eyes were locked as tightly as their swords. And again, their heavily breathing bodies were pressed together.

"You ran out on me pretty quickly," Chance finally said, his voice soft and seductive.

"Well, seems you were about to run out on me as well, so let's call it even."

Close proximity to the man made Tallyn's voice quiver a little. If she was honest with herself, this career choice of his, his obvious skills and abilities, his bravery, made him even more attractive and appealing now than down at the party – if that was possible. She felt heat crawl to the tips of her ears. What was happening to her, why was she reacting to him this way?

Without warning, Chance slid his sword up, breaking her grip and sending her weapon flying through the air. Her eyes widened in anger, accusing him of cheating. He cocked his head at her... _all's fair_…

Before Chance could finish his thought, she grabbed his shirt and in one swift, fluent motion that was more about technique and maneuver than physical strength, let herself fall back, bringing Chance with her, using his body weight against him to flip him over. Chance found himself lying flat on his back with Tallyn straddling him, holding his own sword against his ribs. "There," she said. "This is fairer." As she leaned in closer, her medallion swayed over Chance's face. Her eyes traced down his face to his chest. "This position is more to my liking."

Even though she had his sword digging into his side, he wasn't too concerned she'd actually use it. But he kept his arms by his side in submission as if to surrender. "Nice medallion, a unicorn, huh?" Chance's eyes followed the medallion that swayed back and forth around her neck. "Does it have a special meaning for you?"

Her eyes softened now, but she ignored his question. "I am sorry things couldn't have turned out differently or that we didn't meet in another time and place."

Now it was Chance's turn not to respond, but he was thinking the same thing. He couldn't help but feel disappointment. But then again, what could really have come from any relationship with her, even if she had turned out to be just a regular girl? In his line of work they had no future anyway.

She leaned down, gently placed her lips on his and they froze for a few seconds before continuing. He could now taste the vodka and strawberry he had smelled earlier, and to his surprise – or maybe not – he welcomed her kiss and found himself kissing her back. His hands moved off the ground, found her waist and started to slide up her body.

Here they were, both masked, neither knowing each other's name, clearly working on opposite sides of the law, but both fighting a strong, magnetic attraction to each other that was pulling them both in.

She pulled away, tracing her fingers gently down his mask, over his lips and down to his goatee, along his strong stubborn jaw. Chance knew she was considering pulling off the mask, but made no attempt to stop her. Instead he watched her thoughtfully, sensing sadness in her, regret, possibly even a change of heart.

"Chance! Chance!" Winston's bellowing voice broke their moment as he came running along the balcony towards them. Tallyn quickly jumped off Chance and he sat up just in time to see her dive over the balcony railing to the moat below. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring Winston, and went over to the railing to look for her.

As Winston ran up from behind, Chance still had his back turned, watching the water below. It was too dark, he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Chance, what the hell happened? What was all that I heard? Who just…. Did she just jump?" Winston frantically peered over the railing. "She must be some kind of crazy ass…. same dumb stunt you'd pull…" He shot a sideways look at Chance who was still staring down at the moat in silence.

Chance thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled something out. Finally turning around to Winston, he handed him a matchbook. "Here," he said, walking away before Winston could realize – or comment on- his rather bedraggled appearance. "Something tells me this will lead us to whoever is trying to kill our client."

Winston took it and studied it with a puzzled frown on his face. It showed the crest of another noble family that had a daughter of their own about to have her coming out party. "Where did you…"

"There is a young man, son of the Duke of Buccleugh. He's looking for a bride, and whichever of the girls he chooses, her family stands to gain 136,000 acres of prime English real estate. Sounds like a good motive to me, girls can be pretty competitive." Chance briefly brought Winston up to speed without turning around, his demeanor calm and stoic. Leaving Winston to try to piece together exactly what had just happened.

"She slipped it in my pocket when she was kissing me…" Chance shrugged without looking back as he kept walking away.

"She did _**what**_?!" Dammit! Winston thought and looked back over the rail to the moat below.

* * *

Chance stared at his clean shaven reflection looking back at him in the steam filled bathroom with stoic resignation even though his thoughts ran wild. They'd got back home to San Francisco around 2:00 am. He's chosen a hot shower over immediate sleep.

His eye turned down to the shallow graze that was already healing across his chest. He ran his finger over it. It wasn't bad and hadn't required stitches, but it was going to leave a scar. A distinctive scar. He sighed heavily. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at the scar and not think of _her...her_..."a blue-eyed boy meets a brown-eyed girl...ohhh, sweetest thing" the U2 song popped into his head at the thought of her. He rolled his eyes at the realization that her eye color was probably the only thing he knew for certain about her. Who the hell was she? How did she become _what_ she was? An assassin? She didn't seem like your typical assassin, he bet there was more to it than that, just like him.

Although they met in England, her accent was like his, American. Was she back in the States? Did she live in England? Damn, Chance ran the towel over his hair and looked back at his reflection. Will he ever see her again? And just like that he was done thinking, he gave himself a cocky smirk and left the bathroom and headed straight to bed.

Tallyn stared at her reflection in the mirror of her steamy bathroom. Not really seeing herself, her thoughts were with _him_. She was back home in the States and her assignment had been a failure but it's failure wasn't resting on her. According to her boss, there was a leak and some mystery man and his team foiled the assignment. It was never traced back to her. _Mystery man_... she'd been so impressed with his cool intelligence, his outrageous abilities, his strength and his confidence, not to mention he was devilishly handsome and impossible to categorize, a total enigma, that it almost caused her to jumped into career suicide. Which she knew would result in a lot more then just being out of a job.

She shook her head, what was happening to her. It was like this man reached inside her head, removed her brain and tossed it aside like it was a useless organ not required anymore. _Come on, you are a professional!_ She scrapped the towel down her damp face, pushing a little too hard with the hopes of wiping away any memory of him.

She walked out into her large loft style apartment. The ceilings were high and red bricks covered the walls. She tossed her towel from her hair on the couch adjacent to a small fireplace in her modernly furnished living area and walked to the big 6 foot window. She leaned against a big rustic beam and stared out into her majestic view of the San Francisco Bay.

Her mouth involuntarily began to smile, she tried to hold it back...no use, she smiled at the memory of his chest and about the injury to his chest, the one she caused, it practically had made her toes curl. And now he had a scar that would likely never fade, he'd be reminded of her, always. She turned on her heel. Her thoughts pulling her to her bed. She began to climb the spiral stairs that lead to her sleeping quarters wondering if she's ever see him again. Her last thought as her head hit her pillow was at least she left her mark, literally.


End file.
